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“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He trails his fingertips up my thigh so that I tingle . . . everywhere. Without taking his eyes off me, he gets up from the
bed and gathers both sets of handcuffs. He grasps my left leg and snaps one cuff around my ankle.
Oh!
Lifting my right leg, he repeats the process so I have a pair of handcuffs attached to each ankle. I still have no idea where he’s going to attach them.
“Sit up,” he orders and I comply immediately.
“Now hug your knees.”
I blink at him then draw my legs up so they are bent in front of me and wrap my arms around them. He reaches down, lifts my chin, and plants a soft wet kiss on
my lips before slipping the blindfold over my eyes. I can see nothing, all I can hear is my rapid breathing and the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the
yacht as she bobs gently on the sea.
Oh my. I am so aroused . . . already.
“What’s the safe word, Anastasia?”
“Popsicle.”
“Good.” Taking my left hand, he snaps a cuff around my wrist then repeats the process with my right. My left hand is tied to my left ankle, my right hand to the
right leg. I ca
“Now,” Christian breathes, “I’m going to fuck you till you scream.”
What? And all the air leaves my body.
He grasps both of my heels and tips me back so that I fall backward on to the bed. I have no choice but to keep my legs bent. The cuffs tighten as I pull against
them. He’s right . . . they cut into me almost to the point of pain . . . This feels weird—being trussed up and helpless—on a boat. He pulls my ankles apart, and I
groan.
He kisses my i
“You’re going to have to absorb all the pleasure, Anastasia. No moving,” he murmurs as he crawls up my body, kissing me along the edge of my bikini bottoms.
He pulls the strings on each side, and the scraps of material fall away. I am now naked and at his mercy. He kisses my belly, nipping my navel with his teeth.
“Ah,” I sigh. This is going to be tough . . . I had no idea. He traces soft kisses and little bites up to my breasts.
“Shhh . . . ,” he soothes. “You are so beautiful, Ana.”
I groan, frustrated. Normally I’d be grinding my hips, responding to his touch with a rhythm of my own, but I ca
metal bites into my skin.
“Argh!” I cry. But I really don’t care.
“You drive me crazy,” he whispers. “So I am going to drive you crazy.” He’s resting on me now, his weight on his elbows, and he turns his attention to my
breasts. Biting, sucking, rolling my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, driving me wild. He doesn’t stop. It’s maddening. Oh. Please. His erection pushes
against me.
“Christian,” I beg and feel his triumphant smile against my skin.
“Shall I make you come this way?” He murmurs against my nipple, causing it to harden some more. “You know I can.” He suckles me hard and I cry out,
pleasure lancing from my chest directly to my groin. I pull helplessly on the cuffs, swamped by the sensation.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Oh, baby, that would be too easy.”
“Oh . . . please.”
“Shh.” His teeth scrape my chin as he trails his lips to my mouth, and I gasp. He kisses me. His skilled tongue invades my mouth, tasting, exploring, dominating,
but my tongue meets his challenge, writhing against his. He tastes of cool gin and Christian Grey, and he smells of the sea. He grasps my chin, holding my head in
place.
“Still, baby. I want you still,” he whispers against my mouth.
“I want to see you.”
“Oh no, Ana. You’ll feel more this way.” And agonizingly slowly he flexes his hips and pushes partway into me. I would normally tilt my pelvis up to meet him
but I can’t move. He withdraws.
“Ah! Christian, please!”
“Again?” he teases, his voice hoarse.
“Christian!”
He pushes fractionally into me again then withdraws while kissing me, his fingers tugging at my nipple. It’s pleasure overload.
“No!”
“Do you want me, Anastasia?”
“Yes,” I beg.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, his breathing harsh, and he teases me once more—in . . . and out.
“I want you,” I whimper. “Please.”
I hear his soft sigh against my ear.
“And have me you will, Anastasia.”
He rears up and slams into me. I scream, tilting my head back, pulling on the restraints as he hits my sweet spot, and I am all sensation, everywhere—a sweet,
sweet agony, and I ca
“Why do you defy me, Ana?”
“Christian, stop . . .”
He circles deep inside me again, ignoring my plea, easing out slowly and then slamming into me again.
“Tell me. Why?” he hisses, and I’m vaguely aware that it’s through gritted teeth.
I cry out in an incoherent wail . . . this is too much.
I cry out in an incoherent wail . . . this is too much.
“Tell me.”
“Christian . . .”
“Ana, I need to know.”
He slams into me again, thrusting so deep, and I’m building . . . the feeling is so intense—it swamps me, spiraling out from deep within my belly, to each limb, to
each biting metal restraint.
“I don’t know!” I cry out. “Because I can! Because I love you! Please, Christian.”
He groans loudly and thrusts deep, again and again, over and over, and I am lost, trying to absorb the pleasure. It’s mind-blowing . . . body blowing . . . I long to
straighten my legs, to control my imminent orgasm, but I can’t . . . I’m helpless. I’m his, just his, to do with as he wills . . . Tears spring to my eyes. This is too
intense. I can’t stop him. I don’t want to stop him . . . I want . . . I want . . . oh no, oh no . . . this is too . . .
“That’s it,” Christian growls. “Feel it, baby!”
I detonate around him, again and again, round and round, screaming loudly as my orgasm rips me apart, scorching through me like a wildfire, consuming
everything. I am wrung ragged, tears streaming down my face—my body left pulsing and shaking.
And I’m aware that Christian kneels, still inside me, pulling me upright onto his lap. He clutches my head with one hand and my back with another, and he
comes violently inside me while my insides continue to tremble with aftershocks. It’s draining, it’s exhausting, it’s hell . . . it’s heaven. It’s hedonism gone wild.
Christian tears off the blindfold and kisses me. He kisses my eyes, my nose, my cheeks. He kisses away the tears, clutching my face in between his hands.
“I love you, Mrs. Grey,” he breathes. “Even though you make me so mad—I feel so alive with you.” I don’t have the energy to open either my eyes or my mouth
to respond. Very gently, he lays me back on the bed and eases out of me.
I mouth some wordless protest. He climbs off the bed and undoes the handcuffs. When I’m free, he gently rubs my wrists and ankles, then lies down beside me
again, pulling me into his arms. I stretch out my legs. Oh my, that feels good. I feel good. That was, without doubt, the most intense climax I have ever endured.
Hmm . . . a Christian Grey Fifty Shades punishment fuck.
I really must misbehave more often.
A pressing need from my bladder wakes me. When I open my eyes, I’m disorientated. It’s dark outside. Where am I? London? Paris? Oh—the boat. I feel her pitch
and roll, and hear the quiet hum of the engines. We’re on the move. How odd. Christian is beside me, working on his laptop, casually dressed in a white linen shirt
and chino trousers, his feet bare. His hair is still wet, and I can smell his body wash fresh from the shower and his Christian smell . . . Hmm.